


my hands and heart were tied

by intearsaboutrobots



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Concussions, Gen, Interrogation, Violence, could for sure be read as pre-slash or slash if thats your jam, just a dash of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intearsaboutrobots/pseuds/intearsaboutrobots
Summary: Kepler and Jacobi get captured. Kepler's sure neither of them will break. The people holding them disagree.





	my hands and heart were tied

The room was small and grey, all bare cement broken only by a mirror covering the wall across from the door and two plain metal chairs in the centre.  _ Not much to work with,  _ Kepler reflected, although he suspected that was the point. His analysis was cut off as he found himself shoved without ceremony into one of the chairs. 

Kepler gave the offending guard, a stocky woman with close-cropped dark hair, as wounded a look as he could manage with duct tape across his mouth. She entirely ignored him, instead pulling out a handful of cable ties and securing him to the chair by the wrists and ankles with businesslike efficiency. The close quarters were tempting to take advantage of to make an escape, but, glancing up, Kepler saw that the woman’s taller companion had his gun trained squarely on Jacobi where he sat in the opposite chair. He reluctantly sat back in the chair and allowed himself to be restrained. 

The woman worked quickly, and soon Kepler was the one staring down the barrel of a gun as Jacobi was tied down. It wasn’t long until she was giving the last tie an experimental tug and nodding to herself in satisfaction. With more enthusiasm than seemed strictly professional, she ripped the duct tape off Jacobi’s mouth.It left a painful looking red mark, and Kepler stifled a familiar amusement at Jacobi’s exaggerated grimace.

As the woman turned back to Kepler to remove his gag, Jacobi let out a condescending laugh.  

“Wow, you guys really read the Prisoner Intimidation 101 manual, huh? This is  _ textbook _ .”

He twisted his arms in the plastic ties, nodding in thoughtful consideration.  

“The zip-ties are secure without cutting off circulation, the chair is sturdy.  All in all, I can hardly tell it’s your first time.”

Kepler saw a muscle in the woman’s jaw twitch in annoyance as she leaned in to pull the tape from his mouth, using more force than he thought was strictly professional. He smacked his lips a couple times as the burn faded, then pulled his mouth into a serious line.  Looking over to Jacobi, he raised an admonishing eyebrow.  

“Surely you mean zap straps, Mr. Jacobi?  As it is their proper name.”

Jacobi leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.  

“You are so Southern sometimes, it beggars belief.”

Jacobi was as reclined as a person could be while tied to a straight-backed metal chair, and looked for all the world as if this was exactly where he wanted to be. The casual insolence of his posture was the kind that got under a captor’s skin, worked them up, sometimes enough to make a mistake. 

Kepler let some genuine cheer into the smile that he slid onto his face. He and Jacobi were well-practiced at this double act, and he took some pride in falling into the familiar pattern. He’d opened his mouth for a friendly retort when a fist slammed into his stomach, driving the wind out of him. Kepler doubled over as much as his bound arms would permit, gasping. He looked up, a wounded expression on his face, as he caught his breath. The woman’s face was almost as calm as it had been before, but he caught a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Interesting. 

“See, she’s on my side,” Jacobi said. Kepler sighed, letting disappointment ooze from his every pore.  

“Yes, and what fine company you keep, Mr. Jacobi.”

Kepler kept his eyes on Jacobi, maintaining the facade of an old argument between friends, as in his periphery he caught the motion of a fist drawing back again. He relaxed his muscles as much as he thought he could without the guards taking notice. 

_ Easily angered, _ he noted as he let his head turn with the blow to absorb the impact, heat blossoming along his cheekbone. He turned back to see the woman shaking her hand out with a grimace and suppressed a satisfied grin.   _ And reckless once she was. _

The woman’s compatriot had stepped forward and now grabbed her arm, giving her a warning look. She shook him off, lip twisting, and Kepler settled in to enjoy the show when something Kepler couldn’t detect abruptly absorbed both of their attention. The man raised a hand to his ear reflexively  _ (a comm, they must be receiving orders) _ and the woman’s face set in the uniformly attentive expression of an old soldier.

The message must have been a short one, as a few moments later the two guards made eye contact and the man nodded tersely. He walked up behind Jacobi and gave the back of his chair a sharp tug. Jacobi reflexively jerked forward in his bonds to try to lessen an impact with the floor before turning around as much as he could to glare up at the guard.

“Hey! Is that any way to treat a guy?”

The man didn’t respond to Jacobi’s protests as he, with some effort, dragged him from the room. Kepler could hear Jacobi’s affronted monologue fading down the hallway until the door shut, cutting him off.

Looking back up at the woman, he saw a wicked smile splitting her face. 

“Well,” she said with faux cheer, “guess it’s just you and me.”

Kepler couldn’t even get out a comment on what action movie she’d stolen the line from before all the air was knocked from his lungs again.  

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Kepler took a deep breath, focusing through the pain now throbbing in his right wrist.

“So,” he continued, keeping his tone as casual as possible between gasping breaths, “long story short, I-”

The fist seemed to come out of nowhere as it slammed into his cheek, and he noted absently that he must not be tracking events very well.  Not entirely a surprise considering all the head trauma he’d received today, but a less than ideal development.  He tasted blood as he slowly righted himself once again. 

“That’s not what I asked,” the woman said. Her voice was even, but he could see the sadistic glee in her eyes. “Let’s try again.  What did Goddard send you to find?”

Kepler heard her words as if they were coming from very far away.  The high-pitched tone someone was playing just to his left was far more pressing, and he shook his head in a futile effort to dismiss it. The room rocked dizzyingly with the motion. Kepler’s fingers clenched against the arms of the chair, trying to gain some sense of stability. He brought his breathing back under control with and effort and slowly brought his head up to look into the woman’s eyes. A slow, bloody grin spread across his face.

“See, now I’ve lost my place in the story. I suppose I’ll have to go back to the start.”  

He closed his eyes in feigned disappointment, but quickly reopened them when he lost what little he had of his equilibrium.  His vision refused to focus for a long moment, but when the woman’s face swam back into view he saw it was twisted into a mask of rage.  She turned away, pacing a few steps.  

When the woman turned back, something glinted in her hand.  By the time Kepler’s foggy mind had recognised the blade of a knife, it was digging into the soft underside of his chin.  He swallowed reflexively, all of his awareness centred on the place the blade pressed against him.  The woman dug it in deeper, a thin line of heat opening.  

“No more stories.”  She eyed him critically, scoffing.  “But I can see you’re not going to talk.  Well, we should have more luck with your companion either way.”  

Adjusting her grip on the knife’s handle, she smiled a grim smile.  “Who’s going to miss one prisoner one way or another?”

And then she plunged the knife into Kepler’s hand.  

The blade sunk into the meat between his thumb and his palm, sharp enough that he hardly felt it pierce his skin.  The area tingled as if a strong charge ran through it, and Kepler’s vision swam.  As if at a great distance, he saw the woman pull up a knife, blade red and dripping.  He watched in detached fascination as she traced the tip of his blade up his arm, trailing a messy smear.  

“So,” she sneered, “ready to talk?”

Kepler didn’t think he could have talked if he’d wanted to.  A heat was growing where she’d pulled the knife out.  Some logical part of his brain told him that this wasn’t the first time he’d been stabbed, that it hurt but he could think past the pain, but through the thick fog in his mind all he could do was gasp for breath as the heat climbed steadily with no signs of stopping.  

The woman’s mouth widened into a grin.  

“That’s what I hoped you’d say.”  

The knife again pressed against the skin of his throat, but now it wasn’t just a threat.  The pressure mounted alongside the heat in his hand, and Kepler couldn’t think, could hardly breathe. Whatever vestige of logic he had clung to fled, leaving him conscious of only the fire in his hand and the knife against his neck.  

A crash in the next room over.  Muffled yelling.  The pressure at his throat gone.  Kepler inhaled deeply, trying to clear his head.  Slowly, the yelling came into focus.  

“- whatever you want!  I’ll give you the information, alright?”

Kepler squinted in confusion. Jacobi? He’d had the same Goddard training as Kepler, it took a lot to get him to talk. What could have broken him so quickly? His foggy mind began summoning possible answers unbidden, growing increasingly creative. Kepler was almost grateful when a wave of nausea hit, dispelling the unwelcome images.

Behind the mirror on the wall, a light clicked on. 

Now Kepler saw a small room, previously concealed behind one-way glass. A table lay on its side. Past that, Jacobi, straining forward against his bonds.  He was alone in the room and had no apparent injuries, still blinking against the sudden light.

When Jacobi made eye contact with Kepler and realised he was visible, his expression shifted from anger into something almost… apologetic? He broke the eye contact, looking down towards the floor of the cell.  Kepler lagged a moment behind him, still trying to process what he was seeing.  Was Jacobi hiding some injury?  His movements didn’t look strained or stiff.  What could they have done to him? 

“Just don’t kill him, alright?  And I’ll answer all your questions.”

Kepler felt icy understanding wash over him. A part of him grudgingly acknowledged that it had been impressive work, figuring out Jacobi’s weak point with such accuracy. Still, that didn’t change the fact that Jacobi should know better than this. 

Kepler let the spark of anger catch, fanning it into a flame. Jacobi knew how important this mission was, he understood the stakes, and he’d broken before they’d even laid a hand on him. 

Beyond that, Kepler bristled against the weight of Jacobi’s pity. Jacobi was his subordinate, he’d worked here less than half the time Kepler had, and yet apparently thought of him as needing protection. He was an SI-5 agent, he knew how to take a beating. He’d had worse than this before and come out intact. The nerve of Jacobi, the condescension -

Kepler grimaced as the pain in his head spiked without warning. It overpowered his other senses, reducing the world to flashes as he tried to remember how to breathe.

Jacobi looking out past the wall of his cell.  

Boots pounding on concrete.  

Distant rattle of gunfire.  

Kepler squeezed his eyes closed and tried to focus.  The burning in his hand where he’d been stabbed had been overtaken by a numb, biting chill and he could feel it seeping into his bones.  He shivered involuntarily, trying to draw himself in closer against the cold.

Someone was talking to him.  Kepler looked up to see Jacobi crouching in front of him.  His mouth was tight as he took in the blood oozing steadily from Kepler’s hand. 

“Shit.  Shit shit shit,” Jacobi muttered to himself.  

Jacobi tore a messy strip from the hem of his shirt with the help of a folding knife that Kepler couldn’t quite recall him producing. Kepler opened his mouth to ask where it had come from, but found himself quickly shutting it again to stifle a choked cry as Jacobi unceremoniously knotted the cloth tight around his hand.  Jacobi’s eyes shot up, and he cursed quietly as he finished securing the makeshift bandage.

“Sorry sir, thought you were out for the count.”

It was Jacobi’s usual insubordinate tone, but his face was too pale and the smile too forced to be genuine. Kepler coughed, clearing his throat, and did his best to shut out the still-flaring pain. He clung to the anger to keep himself focused, and tried to speak.

“Was there something about the phrase ‘under no circumstances allow this information to fall into the wrong hands’ that you found confusing, Mr. Jacobi?”

His tongue seemed uncooperative and too big in his mouth, and judging by the widening of Jacobi’s eyes he had not hidden it well. Jacobi raised a hand to his cheek, leaning closer and peering intently at him. Kepler twisted his head irritably in an attempt to shake him off. Immediately, he regretted it, as his brain seemed to rebound against the walls of his skull with more energy than he’d thought was left in his entire body. When hands took hold of his head and turned it back, he didn’t have the strength to resist.

“Gonna need you to open your eyes again, sir.  I’ve seen you drink half a bottle of whiskey without slurring near that bad, and I’d like to make sure you’re not going to have a seizure before I drag you out of here.”

Kepler’s brain was too bruised after pounding itself to pieces against his skull to follow Jacobi’s whole train of thought, but he did begrudgingly open his eyes. The lights seemed to have been turned up in his brief absence and he winced at the assault. Jacobi’s hands didn’t allow him to turn away, however. 

Kepler allowed his gaze to wander as Jacobi examined him.  This close, Kepler could see where the skin underneath his eyes was darkened slightly with fatigue.  He could make out thin veins, sprawling under the slightly translucent skin.  An eyelash clung near Jacobi’s nose, and Kepler toyed with the idea of blowing it away.

He realised Jacobi was talking again.

“... uneven, looks like one of those hits knocked your brain pretty loose.” Jacobi sat back on his heels and gave a thin tight smile.  

“You’re probably lucky it’s not worse.”

He bent and began cutting Kepler free of his ties, slowly so as to not nick him.  The care he took as the blade slid between plastic and skin, the reassuring pressure of his hand on Kepler’s arm, the steady patter Kepler couldn’t quite make himself follow, it was all too much. As Jacobi cut the last bond, Kepler pushed him away with a surge of annoyance.

“I am perfectly capable of standing myself, Mr. Jacobi.”  

He underlined his words by pushing himself upright.  A shock of pain exploded in his hand, bright enough to break the cold numbness pervading it. His right arm half-gave out beneath him and he swayed dangerously to the side, but managed to make it to his feet, breathing hard, nonetheless. The world didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, still swaying around him. 

Kepler blinked hard to steady his vision. It only seemed to spur the swaying on and he could feel nausea rising in his throat. Jacobi’s face swam before him.

“F- Sir! This is a very bad time to foster that rebellious streak, alright, let’s save that for when you don’t have a crippling head injury on top of a stab wound.”

A steadying hand gripped his upper arm, and Kepler shook it off.  The floor rocked with the movement, and he stumbled sideways to keep his balance.

“Rebellious streak?! I am your commanding officer and you will treat me as such,  _ Mr. Jacobi _ .  Perhaps y-”  

Kepler snapped his jaw shut against another wave of nausea, strong enough to sweep him off his feet.  The room took its most dramatic swing yet, sending the floor rocketing towards him.  He distantly heard a muttered curse before impacting something soft and warm, and then it was all black.  

* * *

Kepler was surprised to be lying in a bed when he came to, with a blanket draped over him. A soft, rhythmic beeping came from his left. A medical facility? The drugged fuzziness of his thoughts seemed to confirm it. He kept his breathing slow and his muscles relaxed as he listened carefully for any signs of life. If he was still being held, it wouldn’t hurt to have them think he was still unconscious. 

A minute passed with no movement. Kepler cautiously opened his eyes.  It took a couple blinks for the world to come into focus, but he recognised the sterile white walls of Goddard’s medical bay.  No longer in captivity, then.  He winced as memories of the disastrous mission came trickling back, and carefully quashed the traitorous thought that perhaps it would have been safer to still be a prisoner.

The weight by his side shifted slightly, and Kepler realised he’d lost track of time.  He flexed his bandaged hand, letting the pain sharpen his thoughts.  Lifting his head, he looked down to see - 

Jacobi. 

He’d pulled up a cheap plastic chair alongside Kepler’s bed, but now had tipped forward with his head pillowed against his arms on the mattress, fast asleep. Kepler’s back twinged in sympathy at the uncomfortable angle. 

Jacobi shifted in his sleep, one hand reaching forward. His fingers twitched like he was trying to grab something in his dream, and Kepler could hear that he was mumbling something just under his breath. Whatever the words were, he was clearly distressed. He was debating the most effective way to wake him when he caught a phrase, exhaled on a breath dangerously close to a sob. 

“Don’t hurt him.”

Kepler paused, exactly what Jacobi was dreaming about crystallising in that instant. It was the note of vulnerability in his voice that stopped him from shaking Jacobi awake regardless however. There was no trace of the pity Kepler remembered grating on him in the cell. Looking back, he began to recast the blurry, fragmented scene in his mind. Perhaps Jacobi hadn’t doubted Kepler’s abilities, his own fear driving him rather than pity. The kind of loyalty it would take to ignore Goddard protocol, fully aware of the consequences... it would be something approaching devotion. 

This growing realisation disturbed him. Certainly, he had always sought respect from and power over those around him, you had to if you wanted to survive at Goddard, but that was business. This, though, was uncomfortably close to personal. Jacobi had allowed Kepler this control, handing him the reins willingly, and Kepler was starting to see that how addictive power freely given could be. He’d always known he was binding Jacobi to him, but without realising it he had apparently bound himself as well. 

Jacobi shifted in his sleep again, letting out something close to a whimper. Kepler, almost without thinking, found himself moving his hand down to where Jacobi’s lay. Jacobi huffed a breath at the first touch, fingers twitching under Kepler’s, but quieted as Kepler gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Jacobi’s fingers tightened around his own as his face relaxed. 

Something tightened in Kepler’s chest and he had to look away, clearing his throat. This was only temporary, he reminded himself. He would, of course, have to wake Jacobi soon.  He’d have to  _ remind _ him of Goddard’s protocol on giving in under interrogation. It was just that it wouldn’t do to reprimand him while he was too tired to remember it. 

Just a few minutes, Kepler decided. And whatever medication he was on must have been taking effect, as a comforting warmth seemed to have taken root in his chest while he wasn’t looking. Perhaps he could close his eyes too.  Just for a minute. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! I hope you enjoyed this very self-indulgent fic. Fun fact, the notes for it were initially just the phrase _IMPORTANT:_  
>  KEPLER GETS BLOODY BRUISED AND BROKEN. 
> 
> Title is from our lord and saviour Carly Rae Jepsen's classic hit _Warm Blood_ , which tbh a lot more of the lyrics are relevant to this fic than you'd think. I mean, _Sweet one, you should stop me there, but I keep on talking / I would throw in the towel for you, boy_........... she wrote this for me clearly god bless
> 
> If any of that sounds like your jam, you can find me on tumblr [@intearsaboutrobots](http://intearsaboutrobots.tumblr.com), and check out [@kalgalen](http://kalgalen.tumblr.com)'s cool [art](http://kalgalen.tumblr.com/post/168955889508/my-part-of-the-wolf359bigbang2017-i-got-to-draw) they did off this!! They are wonderful and prolific, and if you like Duke and Dahlia Rose, for sure check them out.


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